


Make A Change

by Katherine



Category: The Lion King (1994)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Infanticide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine/pseuds/Katherine
Summary: Simba turned from his triumphant roar over the regained Pride Lands to face the lionesses—his lionesses. Now it was time indeed, from the darker side of his taking of power that had followed lion rulers from the beginning.





	Make A Change

Simba turned from his triumphant roar over the regained Pride Lands to face the lionesses—his lionesses. Now it was time indeed, from the darker side of his taking of power that had followed lion rulers from the beginning. The lionesses shifted as they realised, and his Nala stepped back to stand among them.

"Timon? Pumbaa?" Simba asked his friends, his expression momentarily young and pleading, although his head was turned away so that the pride could not see. "Would you mind heading off for a while? This is about the pride." Timon seemed about to protest, but a look around at the tense pride changed his mind, and he signalled the warthog to trot away.

Simba shifted his stance to one of more power, more confidence than he in truth was feeling. He had paid as much attention to this lesson from his father ("for any king might come to rule a different pride than he was born to, or regain his kingship after a time") as any of the lessons, which many times hadn't been much.

Simba swung his gaze over the assembled lionesses, his voice deepening with the ritual questions. "Are any of you carrying?"

Each lioness in turn met his eyes and shook her head. Simba felt a rush of relief, unfounded as he knew the worry to be, when Nala also did so. Then one lioness, darker than most, with a stripe of near-black fur between her ears, nodded. "I am," she spoke.

"You, later," Simba said grimly, then addressed all the lionesses once more. "Have any of you birthed?"

The rush of relief when his mother Sarabi shook her head left him struggling to keep his stance. But two of the lionesses nodded. One was young, a stranger to him. The other was Sarafina, Nala's mother. He would deal with her first.

The others turned their heads to watch as the two, king and mother to the queen, moved to a darker inner cave.

There was a single small cub there, whimpering quietly in the cold. Simba asked almost gently, "And is this cub by the former king?"

"Yes," Sarafina told him, her voice low. Her expression was full of grief and regret.

"I'm sorry," Simba whispered as he took the cub in his jaws. This cub was his mate's sibling, and was kin to Simba himself through Scar. He bit down and felt the small furred weight go limp. He dropped it and turned, leaving Sarafina with her dead, to deal with the next.

The lioness was young, sleek despite her haggard thinness. She almost swayed as she lead him to her birthing-cave. "Here," she said dismissively, jerking her head at the tiny female cub, obviously younger than Sarafina's had been. "And yes, she's Scar's." The king killed the cub quickly, without ceremony and almost without regret. What life could she have had with even her mother hating her?

And as he slowly left he flicked a glance over the lioness. She was indeed young, near to beautiful, and as yet he had known only Nala's sweetness. There would be time enough, now that he was the king.

* * *

A turn and a half of the moon later, the third lioness was brought to birth and he to see the tiny mewling things. There were three in the litter. A gawky male, his birth-wet fur more grey than brown. A smaller, lighter female. A final male, more reddish than either of his littermates, the smallest and yet the most sturdy, with the most promise of strength to come.

"Are these cubs by the former king?" Simba asked with a heavy heart, for surely the last looked as his uncle must have done when newly born.

"No," came Zira's chill answer. "They are not. I mated with a rogue."

Simba hardly knew whether to believe her. Nor did the truth much matter. Whether sired by Scar or or an unnamed rogue, the cubs were not Simba's own. Zira had been trouble from the first, she and some others who misliked his rule.

"You are banished," he spoke in a voice of stone. "You, your cubs whoever their father might be, and with you—" He named the other troublemakers.

"Very well," Zira answered slyly, as she took the red male in her mouth and gestured two of the lionesses in the shadows, loyal to her, to carry the others. "We are banished. But we will not forget, King," she sneered on that title, before speaking his name, "Simba."

And as Simba watched them leave in a ragged line for the Outlands, he felt a dreadful feeling of foreboding at the echo of those words.


End file.
